Warming Up, Working Out

I was at the Ecole de Cirque (Circus School, en anglais) in Montreal with my tour last week and before the students were allowed on the trampoline, trapeze, tightrope, etc., we all had to warm up. So there we were, all sat in a circle doing warm up stretches at nine in the morning, an activity reminiscent of elementary school gym class. I sat there on the mat, all bent out of shape, and felt my muscles tense as if to rebel and resist the act of me stretching them out - and then, it's almost as if they all took a big breath and slowly settled into their new relaxed position, like they gave a sigh of relief. I exhaled. "Man, it feels good to be using my muscles again!" I exclaimed. I hadn't been to the gym since school ended and I threw out my trainers when I was packing up, so I haven't been running despite the beautiful weather outdoors. I thought that touring would almost be the same as exercising, given the amount of time I spend on my feet running around, but it hasn't been. I hadn't noticed that I missed being active and was surprised at how good it felt after so much time.

I'm going to take a small step- er, a giant leap, into the area of Cheezo-Beezo and Dramatic now (but don't say that I didn't warn you), and extend this story of me stretching before Circus School into a metaphor to involve a story of me stretching out another muscle in my body: my heart. If I was a better writer I'd be able to seamlessly segue from a real, live story into metaphor into another real-life story and back to the metaphor without you, the reader, even realizing it and then bam! the true meaning comes out and you sit there in your desk chair (or bed, or at your kitchen counter or whatever) and go, "Wow. I totally didn't see that coming. I thought she was going to tell me about clowns."

Also, if I was a better writer, I'd be able to write about other things going on in my life and share lots of good stories and not just lament the fact that I have a new heartache every few months. But I digress....

Now, where was I? Muscles, right. I've been saying "Practice makes perfect" a lot lately (because I'm finally trying to get my license) and also because it's true; the more you do something, the better you get at it. Similarly, the more you use something, the better you get at knowing how it works, how to hone it, how to whisper sweet nothings to that annoying front door lock and tickle it in just the right place to make sure that the mofo actually LOCKS. Not using something, anything - a muscle, a skill - is letting it go, letting it deteriorate and atrophy (like my long lost music, painting, and writing skills). Before you know it, the strongest muscle you've got in your body is the pinky finger on your left hand and how on earth are you going to do save the world or build shelters for the homeless with that? You might as well just mash the A key on your keyboard a few times and call it a day. (My digressions are maddeningly annoying, aren't they?) You forget how good it feels to do something, and to do it well.

I've been through my fair share of relationships (both of the flimsy and meaningful variety) and I can honestly say that I think I'm actually getting better at this girlfriend stuff. I know how to read and relate to people, how to handle conflict, how to be sweet and caring, and also how to stand back and give them space. I've been working on it slowly; reps of ten on both sides, then rest with a period of singlehood for thirty seconds and repeat. It feels nice to love someone, and to love them well. Is it possible to forget something like that? Or is it like riding a bike; you never really forget how to do it, and once you get back on and start cycling around you remember how good it felt to have the wind rushing through your hair.

It's like... when you're in a bad mood and finally, someone says something to you that makes you smile and your whole face just opens up, lights up, and spreads into a big toothy grin and it FEELS. SO. GOOD. It's like your whole body just got a facelift. It makes you think: Wow! That feels so nice! and: Ah, that was easy, and also: Why haven't I been doing this all day? It's just like that; my heart was all crabby and tense and someone came by and said something cute and funny and all of the sudden it took a breath and just relaxed into a smile. And it felt very good after so much time.

At Circus School, I went from doing gentle stretches to doing cartwheels to doing a star on the trapeze to hanging upside down with nothing but a giant red silk curtain holding me up by the small of my back. It was more than exercise, it was extreme. So, as I discovered during and after Circus School, using a muscle too much, too quickly after a long resting period will cause it sudden, and lots of, pain. Going from an atrophied muscle to a pulled one is a mostly unpleasant experience. Personally, I woke up sore all over the next morning, despite the warm up stretches.

And yes, in case I really butchered the real-live, metaphor, real-life, metaphor of this story that much, this is about more than just my experience at Circus School.
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